The strings bit into flesh—not deep enough to kill, but deep enough to remind the party that death was only a twitch of Rico's finger away. Fen, Sable, and Wick dangled in the air behind them like broken marionettes, their faces pale, their breaths shallow.
Haruki walked.
He walked with his hands open at his sides, showing he held no weapons, no bombs. The fire in his left hand had dimmed to a dull, sleeping ember, hidden beneath the skin.
"Lay low," Haruki thought, the command sharp and clear. "Don't talk unless it's critical. If he realizes I have you two, he might decide to dissect my brain to find you."
"Understood," Sol said. His voice had returned to its usual, clinical calm, but there was a rigidness to it—a suppressed tension. "We are currently in passive mode. Sensory input only."
Rico walked ahead, humming a tune that sounded like a nursery rhyme twisted into a dirge. He didn't look back, trusting his strings to keep his prizes in line.
They moved deeper into Floor Five.
The geography changed. The natural caverns gave way to something more deliberate. The walls became smoother, lined with that same dark, ancient stone Haruki had seen in the archway. The mana density here was suffocating, pressing down on Haruki's chest like a wet towel.
"Sol," Haruki thought, keeping his eyes on the floor. "Status report. Why did the dungeon shift? Why did we skip floors? And why is this place falling apart?"
"I completed the analysis during our entry," Sol replied. "The structural degradation we witnessed—the falling rocks, the erratic mana currents—was not due to age. It was due to density. This dungeon is over capacity."
"Meaning?"
"Think of a dam holding back a flood," Sol explained. "The mana concentration in the lower levels has exceeded the architectural limits of the dungeon's shell. The pressure is cracking the walls. The floors are shifting because the dungeon is literally trying to expand to contain the power."
"So... we were lucky," Haruki thought bitterly. "The dungeon moved us to Floor Five because the stairs collapsed?"
"To be quite frank, Haruki," Sol said, his tone dry, "it is a statistical anomaly that you survived the entry, the water burst, and the initial encounter with the Great Demon without active system support. It was not skill. It was, by all measurable metrics, god's luck."
Haruki mentally scoffed. "We didn't survive, Sol. We were captured. That's not survival. That's delayed execution."
"Details," Rax grumbled in the back of his mind.
Haruki kept his face blank, but his mind was racing. He watched the walls. He watched the mana veins pulsing in the stone.
"Sol, classification. Why is a Great Demon here? You mentioned 'Regressed Dungeons' before the processing started."
"The data is conclusive," Sol said. "This dungeon classifies as a Regressed Dungeon. Or rather, it is one disguised as a standard one."
Haruki's mental stride faltered. "Disguised?"
"Regressed Dungeons are, for all intents and purposes, suicide runs," Sol explained. "They are memories made physical. The mana density is lethal to standard lifeforms. They are designated 'Extreme' or 'A-Class' for a reason. But this dungeon was labeled 'Normal'. Mid-tier."
"Why?"
"Because someone wanted to hide it," Sol answered. "Regressed Dungeons have the capacity to generate tremendous mana sources—enough to sustain life that should not exist. Enough to inhabit demons. And, in our case, ancient demons."
Haruki felt a chill go down his spine. "So the Dominion didn't know?"
"The Dominion is incompetent, but not blind," Sol said. "They likely suspected a high mana zone. They did not suspect a cradle for the extinct."
Haruki swallowed hard. "If we want to live... what percentage of chance do we have? Realistically?"
A pause. The silence stretched for two heartbeats.
"A realistic 0.1%," Sol said.
"Fuck," Haruki thought.
"Agreed," Rax muttered.
They walked in silence for another minute. The tunnel opened up into a massive, domed chamber. In the center, a spire of black stone rose from the floor, twisting upward like a beckoning finger. The air here was freezing.
Rico stopped.
He turned around, his eyes locking onto Haruki.
The Great Demon tilted his head, his expression unreadable.
"You," Rico said. "You are quiet."
Haruki stayed silent.
"Who are you talking to?" Rico asked.
The question was a spear.
Haruki's heart skipped a beat. He looked up, keeping his face a mask of exhaustion. "No one."
Rico's eyes narrowed. "You mouth words. Sometimes your eyes move like you're reading. Who is in there?"
"I talk to myself," Haruki lied smoothly. "It's a habit. Helps me think."
Rico stared at him for a long moment, searching for a crack in the facade. Then, he shrugged.
"Crazy people are more fun anyway," Rico said dismissively. He turned back to the spire. "We are almost there. Dad is waiting."
He paused, looking over his shoulder.
"I didn't catch your name. I like to know the names of my collections."
Haruki hesitated. Giving a name was power. But refusing now would be suspicious.
"Haruki," he said. "Haruki Sora."
Rico repeated it slowly. "Ha-ru-ki. So-ra."
He made a face. "That is a really odd name in this world. It sounds... foreign. Exotic."
He smiled, the scar on his face stretching.
"I like it."
He turned and began walking toward the spire.
"Haruki," Sol's voice was urgent in his mind. "He is suspicious. The probability of him detecting our communication is rising. We cannot use active scans anymore. We are blind."
"I know," Haruki thought. "But we have the map from the Archives, right?"
"The Archive map is for a standard dungeon," Sol warned. "This is a Regressed Dungeon. The geography is... shifting. It is a memory. And memories change."
Haruki looked at the dangling forms of his friends. Wick was unconscious. Fen was limp. Sable was watching, her eyes hard, waiting for a signal.
Haruki gave her a tiny, almost imperceptible nod.
"Wait."
"Sol," Haruki thought. "0.1% is low. But it's not zero."
"Correct," Sol said.
"Then let's find the variable," Haruki thought. "Because I am not meeting 'Dad'."
They moved deeper into the spire, the darkness swallowing them whole.
TO BE CONTINUED...